


the file drawer effect

by fancyfanstuff



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Also Lena has gay panic TM, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, and Kara's crying a lot, except it's mental hurt?, only happy endings here, she'll be fine though, so i guess, they'll all be fine, tw panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyfanstuff/pseuds/fancyfanstuff
Summary: “Kara.” Lena rushes forward, nearly tripping over her heels in her hurry to reach her best friend. Kara looks small in a woollen sweater and mismatching socks, and her eyes shine not with their usual enthusiasm but with tears. She stumbles into Lena’s arms already sobbing, and Lena sends a silent thank you to Jess for letting her be here.When Kara refuses sticky buns, Lena knows there is something seriously wrong with her best friend. An impromptu visit reveals not only the reason for Kara's uncharacteristic behaviour.Aka, the slightly different take on hurt/comfort.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 38
Kudos: 543





	the file drawer effect

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps,
> 
> a warning ahead because I feel like this fic warrants them. There will be a minor panic attack happening in this story; if this presents a trigger to you, please consider not reading it. There will be a happy ending, and the attack is not explained in deepest detail, but for your own well-being, I'm still warning you. Please take care of yourself!  
> That being said, there's definitely enough fluff in here to make up for the angst, promise!
> 
> I dedicate this fic to @karasluthqr on tumblr, who sent me a lovely prompt asking for h/c. I know this is not exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless - I know I did!  
> Quick shout-out also to Mion, who helped me with scientific input (the file drawer effect reference was their idea, as was the vortex one), and who's my personal Lena.
> 
> And now, without further ado, enjoy!

The air carries with it the first hints of chilly nights and frosted mornings as Lena exits the building, nodding to the doorwoman as she leaves. It won’t be long now, she notices, until the trees in Gillies Park turn a rusty red, and the winds sweeping through National City grow in bite and viciousness.

Not that she minds, no. Lena likes autumn, likes its crisp colours and homey storms, which provide her with an excuse not to leave interior spaces unless it’s absolutely necessary. Working late at the office is indefinitely more appealing whenever rain taps against the windows and darkness embraces her quickly and suddenly, like an impatient lover.

Today, it is neither raining nor dark yet, and the free afternoon that Jess has all but bullied her into stretches out before Lena with a gaping emptiness. She slips into her car with a sigh, feels her driver’s waiting gaze on her as she’s trying to decide what to do with her six hours of freedom before it’s acceptable to go to bed.

“Give me a minute,” she tells the chauffeur, not unkindly, and he nods and goes back to his newspaper while Lena idly pulls out her phone. Her thumb opens Kara’s chat almost subconsciously, even though she knows it’s highly unlikely for her friend to have a free minute on such short notice. Between being one of the most sought-after journalists of National City and the city’s local superhero, Kara easily clocks in with more work hours than Lena these days.

Hey, Lena texts nonetheless, then lets her fingers hover over the keyboard as she ponders her next words. How’s world-saving going? Any chance you can squeeze in a couple of sticky buns between another revolutionary article and the latest bomb?

Kara usually answers right away, no matter what mission she’s currently on, but this time, Lena’s phone stays silent for so long that Lena begins to doubt if she has connection, when a message finally pops up.

 _Not in the mood for sticky buns._ _Another day?_

The syntax is unmistakably Kara, but the content is so unlike her friend that Lena reads it over thrice before it registers. Kara not being in the mood for sticky buns is an occurrence that’s virtually as unlikely as correctly predicting a vortex in detail. Lena frowns.

 _Are you alright?_ She types, trying not to let her worry permeate the message all too much. _No offence, but I didn’t think I’d ever see you say no to sweets._

Again, Kara takes several minutes to reply, and Lena feels the lines in her brow deepen. She’s suddenly very glad about her free afternoon, because it allows her to tell the driver Kara’s address, just in case. They’re just peeling out of the parking lot when her phone chimes with a new text.

 _Feeling kinda meh today_ , Kara confirms her suspicions. There’s not a single emoji accompanying the message, which feels like a warning sign in itself. Kara adores her emojis and tends to add copious amounts of them to every single text she sends, be it a _Yup_ or an entire novel worth of an anecdote.

 _Do you want me to come over?_ Lena types, then opens Noonan’s website simultaneously. Even though Kara might not feel up for food right now, it’s always good to have some of her favourite take-out at hand.

 _Dunno_ , Kara replies, faster now, _Can_ _you?_

Lena allows her lips to form a small smile as she glances out of the car window and sees the familiar houses of Kara’s neighbourhood.

 _I’_ _m on my way._

The wind has picked up and is chasing a few forlorn leaves down the street, when Lena eventually rings the doorbell. Despite worrying about Kara’s health, she feels somewhat giddy, happy to see her friend again at last. It’s been entirely too long since Kara and she hung out last, and the craving for _more_ – more time, more often, more closeness, more love - that long ago manifested in Lena’s heart, has begun to feel like hungry teeth against her ribcage. And of course Lena understands and respects the importance of Kara’s duties, both as a reporter and a superhero. Of course she does, just like she understands that they are friends, just friends, who owe each other nothing more than the average amount of affection and attention.

But that is the thing, Lena muses as the door is buzzed open and she makes her way up the stairs. Nothing about Kara and her has ever been average. Naturally, part of that is due to Kara’s alien DNA and the fact that their families are supposed to be arch enemies, but there’s more to their relationship than yellow sun-induced superpowers and old animosities. Ever since they first met, their interactions have been charged somehow, laced with genuineness and anticipation and – in a way, Lena insists, at least in some kind of platonic way – love.

She feels this love now, feels it sweep over her like a wave, as she mounts the last few stairs and sees Kara’s door slightly ajar and in the gap, Kara herself. Their eyes lock.

“Lena,” Kara breathes out, and it is in the single word uttered with the desperation of a drowning sailor that the wave crests.

“Kara.” Lena rushes forward, nearly tripping over her heels in her hurry to reach her best friend. Kara looks small in a woollen sweater and mismatching socks, and her eyes shine not with their usual enthusiasm but with tears. She stumbles into Lena’s arms already sobbing, and Lena sends a silent thank you to Jess for letting her be here.

“Shh,” she whispers, stroking over Kara’s hair, her neck, her trembling back, “Shh, it’s alright.”

But Kara is shaking her head, mumbling into the crook of Lena’s neck, the same words over and over again. It takes Lena a few seconds to make out a frantic “It’s too much, too much, it’s simply too much” and another couple of moments to realise that Kara’s malady is not of the physical kind. When she does, her heart breaks a little.

“Kara,” she says, as soothingly as she can, after they’ve stood like this for some minutes, and Kara’s sobs have only grown in volume and frequency. “Kara, hey.” And then again, “hey,” as she gently pushes her friend back into her flat and uses one foot to close the door behind them. She has been through enough episodes like this herself to realise that Kara’s hyperventilating, she recognises the violent shaking of Kara’s body in her embrace – “too much, too much, too much” – the alarmingly fast pulse that thunders against her chest, the pained yet vacant expression in those beautiful blue eyes. There’s no telling if Kara’s DNA can prevent her from having a full-blown panic attack, but Lena is not taking any chances. Years of medical training kick in, as she does a quick scan of the room. Kara needs to sit down, _now_.

Unfortunately, the stylish kitchen stools offer little support, and the couch, optimal as it would have been for propping up Kara’s legs, is on the other side of the room. Decidedly too far away for Kara, who’s starting to lean alarmingly heavily against Lena, her stammering growing more incoherent with every tear that rolls down her cheeks. Not for the first time, Lena wishes she was the one with superpowers, so she could pick her friend up, cradle her, hold her tight, and protect her from every evil in existence. But alas, the sunlight on the kitchen counter does nothing for her, and so Lena has no choice but to sink to the floor, supporting Kara as well as she can on their way down.

The tips of her heels dig uncomfortably into her thigh, but Lena barely notices. “Hey, it’s alright,” she murmurs again, carefully trying to disentangle herself from the death lock Kara has her in, so she can look at her friend’s face. But Kara’s grip does not give, her arms of steel keeping Lena in a place where she can be of disturbingly little help beyond repeating “It’s alright” and “Breathe with me, in, out, in, and out” over and over again.

It takes eight long minutes. Eight minutes, in which Kara trembles against her and Lena tries her best to exude calm, eight minutes, in which Lena actually listens anxiously for every slightest change in Kara’s pulse that might indicate improvement. She’s told herself that she gives Kara ten minutes to recover, before she calls an ambulance in hopes that they know how to treat an alien.

The relief that she feels when Kara’s breathing finally approaches regular frequency again cannot be put into words. Gradually, the violent sobs abate, giving way to soft sniffling and two or three deep sighs. At the same time, Lena feels the embrace around her torso loosen.

“Kara?” She shuffles back an inch, just enough to allow her to wedge an arm between them and gingerly cup Kara’s cheek. The skin is wet and hot, and Kara leans into the touch with a mewling sound that goes straight to Lena’s heart.

“It’s alright,” Lena whispers, for what feels like the hundredth time, but this time, she is rewarded with a reaction, as Kara leans back to look up at her with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Her gaze is unreadable though, and she doesn’t reply, so Lena lets it go.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” She asks instead, motioning towards the kitchen island. “You must be dehydrated...” Her thumb grazes against Kara’s cheekbone as Kara gives a minuscule nod.

“Thank you,” she croaks out, but Lena shushes her.

“Shh, of course, of course, let me just…” She carefully slips out of their embrace, positioning Kara’s body so her head can loll against the wall in case she’s still feeling faint. Then she quickly strides over to the crane and fetches a large glass of water.

Kara drinks greedily, and Lena has to refill the glass twice before Kara flops back against the wall with a satisfied sigh. Although her face is still red and puffy from crying, and her fingers are trembling ever so slightly, the crucial part seems to be over. Lena settles back down on the floor, next to Kara, and offers her arms, which Kara immediately crawls back into. Her head resting comfortably against Lena’s sternum, Lena presses a soft kiss to Kara’s hair.

“Feeling better?” She asks quietly, running her fingers over Kara’s arm as she wills herself not to dwell too much on the sudden realisation about how close they’re sitting and how good Kara smells and how trustful she snuggles into Lena as she hums affirmatively.

“It was all so loud, but it is quieter now,” she murmurs, and Lena nods and tells herself to _get a fucking grip, this is about Kara now_.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kara takes so long to reply that Lena almost expects her not to answer at all. Her fingers continue mapping out intricate patterns on Kara’s arm, and she can feel the steady rise and fall of Kara’s ribcage against her own body. She’s comfortable like that, even on the floor, and she senses that Kara’s relaxing too.

“It can be a curse sometimes,” Kara says eventually, haltingly as if she hasn’t figured out how to word this yet, “to have superpowers, you know. Especially…” She pauses, takes a deep breath. Lena reaches for her hand, intertwines their fingers and gives them a soft squeeze. Kara exhales. “Especially the superhearing is… It got to me, these past few days, somehow, I don’t know… Usually, I can block it quite well, but today… It was all so _loud_ , you know, so much, and everywhere at once…” She breaks off, glancing helplessly at Lena.

“You see, people always think I am invincible. And I am, in a way, of course I am. But being invincible is not the same as being a stranger to pain.” The words are coming faster now, and it’s clear that Kara’s put thought in this before, that this is something she’s felt for a while.

“Bullets cannot pierce me, but actions do, words do, losses do. People hurting people, that’s what’s hurting me. And, unlike humans, who can turn a blind eye to the cruelty of this world, I am forced to acknowledge it, even partake in it – because I can’t look away, because I am the hero. And it would be okay if it was just the job, but at the end of the day, I can’t simply shut off my hearing and be done with it, no, not anymore.” Kara sniffles, and Lena realises she’s crying again, albeit softly, contradicting the vigour of her words. Even as Lena reaches out to cup her cheek, stroke her hair, provide _some_ _measure_ of comfort while she grabbles for something to say to Kara in her aching, Kara’s fingers close around hers, firmly, urgently.

“Can you imagine the amount of heartache that lives in National City? Do you know how many broken people roam our streets? I can hear every child cry, every adult curse, every person collapse and give up; I witness it all, every hour of the day, again and again and – ”

Lena kisses her. Not on the lips of course, although they are pink and inviting in spite of the tears, and Lena is feeling a surge of love towards Kara that almost, almost overwhelms her. But she does have respect for her friend’s despair, which shouldn’t be diminished, and so she merely pecks Kara on the cheek, just close enough to the corner of her mouth that Kara stops mid-sentence.

“Have you heard of the file drawer effect before?” Lena says into the sudden silence, her voice somewhat shakier than she’d intended.

Kara’s “Wh-what?” is even more fragmented and hoarse with tears. Lena clears her throat, willing the tingling sensation in her lips to go away before the bewilderment in Kara’s gaze becomes overbearing.

“The file drawer effect. It’s a glitch that sometimes appears in scientific research, when only results above a certain significance level are published, thus leading the public to believe that only these results exist.”

“… Okay,” Kara says, sounding like she’s trying very hard to summon some sort of reaction to Lena’s words, “That’s great.”

“No no,” Lena hurries to explain, “It’s not. Because it keeps people from seeing the bigger picture. It’s a bias.” She feels her cheeks flush at the apparent confusion in Kara’s face. Damn the kiss and how much it has thrown Lena, this is not how she’d planned her expression of solace to go. At least Kara’s stopped crying though.

“And what is the bigger picture?”

Lena has to hand it to Kara, she’s making an honest attempt at sounding interested, even though it’s clear that she has no clue how Lena’s words connect to the issue at hand.

Luckily, Lena does. “The problem of the file drawer effect is,” she explains, “that people only see part of the results, and assume that it’s the whole truth. Like you hearing the entire heartbreak of National City, and assume that it is all there is. But like the public in the file drawer problem, you are neglecting part of the data, because it’s less obtrusive, harder to find. Crying is a loud emotion, as is anger, so naturally, that’s what you hear the most. Yet underneath, there are so many other emotions – happiness, joy, love – which also contribute to the face of National City, but in a quieter way.”

Understanding is already flooding Kara’s eyes, but Lena’s gained momentum now, and she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. “For every crying child, there are ten laughing ones – you just need to listen to them. For every cursing adult, there are dozens more, who are smiling, quietly reveling in their happiness. And for every person giving up today, there will be twice as many trying again tomorrow. Power lies in numbers, not in volume, Kara, you just have to know where to loo- “

This time it’s Kara who’s cutting her off with a kiss, and she does not avoid Lena’s lips. One moment, Lena is talking and the next, Kara’s mouth is on hers, effectively dispelling every thought in her brain except for one. _Oh_.

Then the doorbell rings.

For all the positivity that she’s been preaching for the last couple of minutes, Lena can barely suppress a string of colourful curses of her own, as Kara pulls away.

“Are you expecting someone?” She asks instead, then blushes at how breathless she sounds. Kara bites her lip and ducks her head.

“No,” she says,”Are you?”

Lena frowns. “Why would I – oh.”

“Oh?”

With a sigh, Lena stands up from the floor, adjusting the coat she’s still wearing in the process. Then she offers Kara a hand to help her up.

“I ordered a collection of things from Noonan’s,” she explains to an increasingly bewildered looking Kara. “In case you were feeling better and wanted sweets after all.”

It would be ridiculous how broad a smile blooms on Kara’s face at that, if it weren’t also heartwarmingly adorable.

“You did? Ohhh Lena, thank you, go get it, _go get it_!”

Lena can’t help it, she has to laugh. Pressing the buzzer to let the delivery guy in, she turns to Kara with a raised eyebrow.

“ _That’s_ what you’re choosing to thank me for?”

“Well,” Kara grins, and though her eyes are still slightly red-rimmed, Lena believes she’s gonna be okay now, “I appreciated the talk, but food is ultimately the way to my heart, you should know that by now.”

Lena rolls her eyes, retrieving her wallet from her discarded purse. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re the best,” Kara smiles, then leans in to press another kiss to Lena’s lips, because apparently they’re doing this now. The delivery guy’s steps can already be heard on the staircase when they separate, and yet Kara pulls her back in one last time, her breath a delicious shiver against Lena’s ear as she whispers:

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @fancyfanstuff


End file.
